


Tom

by kirsten1234



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 15:23:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5168804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirsten1234/pseuds/kirsten1234
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s my fault he’s gone. I’m not good enough for him.” <br/>He cries, I struggle. Realising, perhaps too late, what I had.</p><p> </p><p>PiP Round 8 Day 5</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tom

His wails cease for the few minutes he’s in my arms between the house and the car, however the ringing of them in my ears doesn’t stop. I can’t be relieved from the sound for just a second. I strap him in, double checking the buckles, then close the door as quietly as I can. Quickly I grab the baby bag from the porch and load it into the car as well.

As soon as I’m seated and fasten my own seatbelt, the reprieve from crying is over and his loud screams fill the small space of the car.

I rub my face for a few seconds, then pull my messy unwashed hair back into a topknot in an attempt to look slightly more presentable.

At this moment I’m thankful we live in a secluded area on the outskirts of town. Had I been sitting in a parked car with a screaming baby on a street full of houses I would have looked like a terrible mother. Although maybe I am anyway. He hasn’t stopped crying at all – unless I hold him or if Peeta plays and makes faces at him. I long for the day when I hear a giggle, or even just a gurgle.

I almost should have expected this to be difficult due to the ease of my pregnancy. I had little sickness and almost no aversion to foods or smells. And my aches never seemed particularly trying on my body. Although my labour was long and painful, there were no complications. I should have known my luck would run out.

“It’s ok, it’s ok!” I try and coo while reaching back to let him know my presence, however my effort is in vain and I think his crying gets worse. At least when Peeta is with us I feel like I’m keeping a hold on some of my sanity.

I eventually raise the courage to just start the car and get on with the 15 minute drive into town to the doctor’s office for Tom’s four week check-up.

The roads are quiet at this midmorning time and at least the fields and woodland around the roads provide some sort of serenity. I slow the car a little in an attempt to enjoy the scenery – it’s tricky with a crying 4-week-old baby in the car though. I slow even more when I reach our nearest neighbours house. He tends to let his geese and dogs run free over his property and I couldn’t take hitting one of them right now.

I have to start being more careful on the winding roads now. There are some tight bends and often some of the local farmers have their tractors on these roads. Concentrating is just so difficult though and my emotions and energy reserves are already shot for the day. Half of me wants to call Peeta and ask him to come with me so he can deal with this too, but the other half wants this outing over – it’s mine and Tom’s first outing together alone and I should suck it up and deal with it. Agreeing to a doctor’s appointment seemed so simple at the time.

I successfully navigate around one tractor and thankfully don’t see any others when Tom’s wails seem to increase in all aspects of volume and pitch. With one hand on the wheel I reach back to his car seat to try and soothe him. And I try to sing gently to him the songs I would sing to him before he was born. But nothing works and I can feel tears are on the approach.

“Tom, Tom, it’s ok, mommy’s here, just try quiet down, shh, shh now! Baby come on!”

And I can feel my frustration building as well, mixed in with guilt because I shouldn’t feel frustrated towards my baby. I haven’t told Peeta any of this, he would be aghast with me. He would never feel anything but love and adoration for our son.

I turn a little in the seat, keeping just one eye on the road and try to reach further for Tom, but I just twist my arm, pulling a muscle. Groaning, I try once more, and when I can’t and his screams continue, I finally relent and turn around in time to see a woman standing in the middle of the road. My body jumps into autopilot and seems to take on actions that I couldn’t summon with my mind.

The car swerves. I think I see a large dog by the woman, who remains in the same place, but when I focus on my driving again I’m met with a sudden impact and my body is flung around before I black out.

/

It’s quiet when I come to, trapped in position by the car. I know not to move too much, but just by eye movement I can see greenery in the car.

“Tom! Tom, cry baby, cry for mommy!” the plea is horrible and gut wrenching. If I have killed our son, I think Peeta will kill me. I need to look, I need to look at him … but I can’t make my legs to push myself up and into the back seat. I start to panic, and try to stop hyperventilating, but fail.

“Tom! Help!” I shout louder this time, hoping someone will hear, although the chances of that are slim.

My head pounds as I cry and yell, and twisting it back to look for Tom’s car seat only causes shark stabbing pains. I think I must pass out again.

/

I see small bright lights that flash and come and go in my vision. I think I start blinking in response.

“Mrs Mellark? Katniss? Can you hear me? We’re paramedics, we’ll get you out of here.”

I respond with a groan and try to nod, but my neck is restricted.

“It’s alright, you’re safe” the man tells me.

I think my consciousness is a little bit-y, but I do hear some sort of machinery and can only assume the worst about my car, even though I don’t think I swerved or crashed very badly.

The paramedic talks to me throughout, in fact I think he’s sitting behind me holding my neck.

“We’re going to lift you out now, alright, just hang tight.” He has such a steady voice, and I feel like it keeps my mind at bay.

I still can’t really see properly, or maybe I just can’t summon the courage to do so. I can’t necessarily feel my body, but I can tell I’ve been suddenly lifted from my seat by the airflow around me. It’s at this point that I remember my baby.

I try to ask for ‘Tom’, but I can’t hear properly, so who knows what it comes out as.

“You’re ok, Katniss, it’s fine, we’re getting you to hospital now.” I feel jostling movements, and I begin to think I am a little more awake once I’m in the ambulance and I manage to open my eyes to the white roof above me.

“Hi there, Katniss” the paramedic declares, coming into my field of vision, although I can’t clearly make out his features.

“Hey,” I croak back to him, “Ba-” I try to continue asking for my baby, but my voice stops and the paramedic shushes me.

“Your next of kin has been called, he’s coming to join the party at the emergency room!” he proclaims playfully. He’s far too casual about this, unless my injuries aren’t that bad. And by the way he says ‘party’ I hope he means as in our party of people and that Tom is with another crew.

I manage to whisper ‘Tom’ and only hope the paramedic hears.

/

The next thing I know, I’m being lifted from the ambulance and there are suddenly a lot of people around. And I feel fully aware in that my vision and hearing are both clear and I can feel a lot of my body, along with the pain that it is in.

“Tom? Where’s Tom?” I ask again to anyone who will listen.

It’s a female who responds this time, “Don’t worry darling, he’s on his way here too.”

Relief floods over me, but I don’t know why they couldn’t just let me travel to the hospital with him. He’s too small to be separated from me right now.

I just see the ceiling of the hospital while I’m wheeled inside, and I find it hard to clarify what I’m feeling. An overwhelming vibe is all I am getting.

Once we eventually stop I’m transferred to another bed but left on the flat board with the hard collar, and finally someone introduces themselves.

Dr Aurelius is a neurology specialist, and he wants my head scanned as soon as possible. Other doctors seem to have different ideas and I’m pretty sure every other body part is assessed first.

I raise my voice a little once it seems to quieten down, “Is Tom here yet? Can I see him?”

No-one seems to know, but a nurse eventually goes to find out. Surely they’d bring me my baby as soon as he’d arrived? Unless they don’t want me to see him before taking him away from me because I’ve been a bad parent…

Or worse … my eyes well up and my vision hazes as I worry that I’ve killed him. My sniffling must have gotten louder and someone quickly comes over to my side telling me ‘it’ll all be ok’.

The door suddenly bursts open and I hear a loud gait which could only belong to one person.

“Katniss!” I hear Peeta shout as he rushes to my side and suddenly appears above me. I only cry more at this, and somehow I think it placates the nurse that I think it will all be ok now.

Peeta rubs at my face, pushing strands of my hair back then wiping at my eyes. His own eyes are watery and his face is red.

“See? You’re fine,” his voice shakes.

“But I haven’t seen Tom yet!” I cry out, only unleashing more tears.

“Where is he?” Peeta asks, looking around. I only hear silence.

I struggle to tell what happens next. There seems to be a rush from the staff as they leap into action, realising the miscommunication – or in my opinion, their mistake. I just feel like my heart is bursting, that this is a terrible nightmare, and I can only think of the worst – that he’s out there alone and cold and hungry without us. I can’t understand how he wouldn’t have been in the car when the ambulance service found me. Was the wreck really that bad that they couldn’t see a baby seat? I only cry more and more, and then the doctor wants to sedate me. I can hear Peeta protest, but it falls on deaf ears because I can feel the cold sedative flowing into my body already.

/

I’m in a different room when I wake up, still stuck down flat on my back with my neck firmly supported. I feel a little disorientated and dizzy, but I just want someone to tell me what’s going on.

“Peeta?” I try, hoping he’s stayed with me, unless our baby has been found and brought in. He doesn’t reply so I assume he’s not here and hope for the best when I close my eyes again.

/

The police department are here. They want to question me to ascertain what happened. Peeta asked them to wait and just find out son, but apparently this is important for that.

“I don’t remember. Tom had been crying since you left for work, Peeta. I couldn’t get him to stop and we had to go. I was driving carefully, honestly. I don’t remember where we’d gotten to, but something distracted me, a woman in the road. My body just … jumped into action, I only remember swerving, then the car must have crashed.”

I only feel more upset and wound up after talking to them. I worry that my words to the police officers only confirm to Peeta what I’ve been terrified of all along – that I’m a bad mother.

“Just find him, please!” I plead looking up at them from my restricted position.

They nod and say their goodbyes to Peeta before leaving.

“You can say it if you want, you know? I don’t mind.” I tell Peeta quietly soon after.

“Say what?”

“That it’s my fault he’s gone, I’m not good enough for him, I let him down …” I trail off, concerned about offering him up more reasons to leave.

“I would never say any of those things Katniss, they’re not true, why would you think that of me?”

I wish I could shrug in response, because I don’t have an answer composed of words. I’m even quieter when I speak up eventually, “because it is true, I’m not a good mother. I can’t make him stop crying for even a few minutes.”

Peeta holds my hand and I soak up the warmth from his.

“You are a great mama to him,” his voice wobbles. I really don’t feel like it right now.

“I just don’t understand why he wasn’t there when the emergency services came to collect me … I swear I strapped the car seat in securely, it can’t have gone anywhere!”

Peeta sighs, “Don’t think about that right now. Calm down a little, stop blaming yourself,” he says softly. I’m guessing he doesn’t blame me then, which is a bit of a miracle.

“I’m sure the doctor will be back soon to take you out of this …” he indicates the collar, changing the subject.

He’s right, and two young doctors come in a little later. It’s getting dark, I notice, and my heart clenches at the thought of Tom out there all on his own at night.

“Mrs Mellark, we’ve been having a close look over your scans. We were concerned you had a broken neck, and there was quite a lot of swelling that we could see so we had to be sure what we were looking at. It’s good news, Mrs Mellark, nothing’s broken,” he looked pretty happy with this, “there is a lot of swelling so it will be painful and you might have some stiffness and discomfort, but we can take you out of this neck collar now.”

He does this and gently moves my head to the sides. He was right when he said it would be painful and stiff, but I try to bite back my groan.

“As far as we can tell, you have no spinal cord damage, but the paramedics said you had numbness. This can just be because of the swelling, but we’ll get a neurological examination done soon. How are you feeling now?”

I try and wiggle my toes and fingers but just feel a tingle rather than movement in my extremities, and I tell him so. He nods along, saying this can be normal and they’d check on me again later. I don’t think I’d realised the severity of this, I had no concept that any of my numbness could be permanent.

The doctors leave after propping up the bed into a sitting position.

I turn to Peeta to get a good look at him for the first time. He looks distraught.

“We’ll get him back, he’ll be fine.” I say with a shudder, trying not to consider the worst.

His head attempts to agree, “Yeah, he’s fine, there’ll have just been a mix up.”

“I gave the police a picture of him I’d taken yesterday … they should be circulating it to all the officers soon.” He adds after a silence.

“I’m really worried,” I whisper, “and it’s all my fault.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m worried too,” Peeta tried to smile, “and it’s no-one’s fault, it was an accident that happened. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

I can’t reply to him because I just can’t feel anything other than that it is my fault.

/

It’s the middle of the night, and it’s just passed the 12 hour mark. I’ve told myself if it gets to 24 hours, that that’s it, he’s gone. And I’m telling myself I’ve settled my mind with that, and it will be my fault. Peeta will never love me again-

“Kat?” Peeta brings me out from my thoughts.

“I can tell what you’re thinking about, stop it. Just calm down, try to relax. I’d come and wrap myself around you in that bed, but I don’t want to make you feel any more pain.”

I do my best to shuffle over anyway and make a very small space for him, which he takes even though he’s too large. I lean into his arms and body, and immediately some of my stress is removed.

“Mr and Mrs Mellark?” I jolt awake, wincing in pain at the same time as the sudden movement. I waken Peeta too. It’s a police woman who woke us, not one of the ones who has been here before.

“I’m sorry to wake you, but I need to ask, does your son have any distinctive features? A birthmark?”

“Yes,” I say quickly, “he’s got a small one on his back, just beneath his left shoulder, and there are little moles around it too…” I tear up at my description, remembering the worry when I had first seen it after I had given birth.

“We believe we’ve found your son, the baby has a mark matching your description on his back.”

I sob in relief and turn to see Peeta has done the same.

The police woman has a small smile, “He’s being brought in now, he’ll be checked over by a paediatrician and then you can see him.”

That doesn’t settle me, I want to see him now. I push back the blanket and shrug out of Peeta’s grip. Seeing my legs is odd, because I’m not actually sure I have complete feeling in them. They’re bruised and cut, but it really makes no difference to me. I watch them while I attempt to get them off the bed. The movements are slow and there’s some shooting pains when I eventually get to bend my knees to touch my feet to the floor.

“Katniss, stop, come on, take it easy,” Peeta says, rushing off his side of the bed and trying to get me to lie back down.

“No, Peeta, he’s coming here, he misses us, he needs us, let’s go!”

The police woman steps in now, “Mrs Mellark they’re not here yet, I’m sure an orderly can take you in a wheelchair when they’re ready for you.”

I glare, “No,” I say stubbornly, “he’s ready for me now! We’re going down … wherever, now.”

I ignore Peeta’s further protests and lean on his body trying to stand. I put more weight on him when I’m standing fully, because I’m not sure my legs could hold me on my own. Peeta’s arms wrap protectively around me, but carrying my weight, and we slowly shuffle to the door.

“Lead the way,” I say with finality to the policewoman. She nods and holds the door for us.

/

It takes a good 15 minutes to make it along the corridor and to the elevator then to the paediatric department of the emergency room. Tom’s not here yet, and it’s making me wonder where he was, because the road where I crashed wasn’t all that far away, under 10 miles.

I give in and let Peeta put me down into a seat eventually. We can see the front door from here and I’ll be able to go to him as soon as he arrives.

Every time the sirens seem to get closer to the doors I strain my eyes, but it’s never who we’re looking for.

After waiting another 15 minutes I make Peeta go and wait by the door so he can see him as soon as the ambulance doors open.

“There’s a police car,” Peeta says suddenly across the hallway to me. He goes outside leaving me in the dark.

He steps back in after a few seconds, his hair is all over the place and his skin is pale, “He’s just coming, in an ambulance.”

“Is he alright? Did they say?”

He shakes his head, not knowing anything. Then he makes his way back over and sits together with me.

“He’ll be ok” I tell him quietly, I’ve forgotten to give him reassurances too; I’ve been too busy building it up as my fault in my head.

Peeta just nods and tries to smile.

We can both hear the sudden commotion outside, my heartrate speeds at the thought of who or what will come through the doors next.

A new policewoman holds open the hospital doors, and she’s followed in by a paramedic who walks slowly with blankets bundled in her arms. It’s our baby …

She’s smiling down at him and cooing, and even from 20 feet away, I think I hear him make little gurgling noises.

I collapse forward with my head in my lap, sobbing with joy that he’s alive, ignoring the pain radiating though my bones. I feel Peeta’s hand rubbing my back, and I’m sure I hear him sob too. Then I glance at the paramedic’s feet before us.

“Mr and Mrs Mellark?” she hands Tom forward in the bundle, wrapped up well and warm.

Peeta tentatively reaches forward to take him, he’s handed over without hesitation.

“We’ve checked him over, but the paediatrician needs to do so too. He seems fine so far, he’s a happy little chap, been no bother at all.”

I cry more, all it took was to be away from me for him to stop crying. And when I look at him in his father’s arms he looks so at peace, he’s almost smiling as he looks up at us with his bright eyes.

“Oh, you’re here!” I sniffle out leaning down to kiss Tom’s forehead. As I move back away from him I can see the cogs turning behind his eyes and then his face twists a little – his familiar wails start up again.

I make some sort of laughing cry, and I pull him carefully from Peeta’s arms and snuggle him into my own, never having been to glad to hear his cries.


End file.
